


Quick Study

by niawen



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: AFAB Apprentice, Cunnilingus, F/M, Mild Humiliation, Other, Penis In Vagina Sex, Praise Kink, apprentice has a vagina but otherwise its mostly gender-neutral language, mild size kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:07:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25161367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niawen/pseuds/niawen
Summary: Muriel's a soft boy with a hard-coded praise kink.  The Apprentice is careful with him but is learning how to press his buttons to great effect.
Relationships: Apprentice/Muriel (The Arcana)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 238





	Quick Study

**Author's Note:**

> I love this man. I love him so much.

It’s taken a long time to figure out an arrangement that suits us both and I can’t help but smile at the thought. The care and exploration it had taken in discovering boundaries and comfort had been enjoyable work as well, truth be told, even if I sometimes had to improvise or change tact. 

Despite his huge, muscular stature and outward appearance, Muriel is… fragile. At least where intimacy is concerned. 

He still jumps when I touch him sometimes, as though caught lethally vulnerable without his guard up, but his recovery time has reduced dramatically and I appreciate that his looks of furtive panic have been replaced with small, shy smirks and easy reciprocation. When I grab his hand he squeezes back now, without hesitation or shame.

Hell, he even initiates touch these days… something Asra tells me is nothing short of a miracle.

Especially considering that it’s happening in public on occasion. Two weeks ago, he kissed me in front of the entire Rowdy Raven after I lost at cards and while his face had been flaming hot, he refused to look even remotely ashamed of his actions even after Julian whooped and bought the entire bar a round. It- and a few other incidents involving public hand holding and (gasp) minor displays of physical affection- made it obvious to me that we were on the same page. Which let us try to figure out more… private things on our own time.

But I knew we had to go slow... I knew he would probably push himself to oblige me but I wanted him to be comfortable. In the privacy of his hut one of the easiest things to fall into was sprawling out in front of the fire. In the beginning we’d start in sitting positions and eventually collapse into a pile on the furs but nowadays, we usually start that way.

I’m nowhere near big enough to be the “big spoon”- Muriel’s got almost two full feet on me heightwise- but I still try. I’ve learned that he likes it, likes being taken care of. He likes resting his head on my lap or against my chest as he leans backwards into me. I learned quickly that he absolutely melts when I play with his hair. 

It's made me realize that Muriel doesn’t dislike intimacy, he just never learned how to deal with it and was forced to endure a life of pain under constant threat of death.

“You’re doing that thing again.”

I start, my thoughts snapping like a soap bubble and my eyes refocusing as they had glazed over in the firelight. Muriel is sprawled across the floor (taking up a large portion of the hut’s open space), head resting on one of my thighs. His eyes are intently studying my face and his lips are quirked into a thoughtful frown. I realize I have my hands in his hair and wonder how long I’ve been lost in thought. “What thing?” I asked, a little indignantly. My face is definitely flushing, however, and I can’t hide it.

His voice rumbles up from the pit of his chest, low but subtly amused. “Thinking too hard.” I frown and he chuckles quietly after a second. “Important magic stuff?”

I scoff and resume dragging my fingers through his hair and I can feel the smirk growing on my face. “No,” I reply evenly. “Just thinking about you, actually.”

He immediately goes blotchy- to my satisfaction- and averts his eyes. “Oh…” 

For an instant I catch a flicker of worry in his face and I decide to commit to the light teasing. “You’re just…” I trail off and he waits in silence, still red but now looking at my face again, trying to glean my next words before I say them. “... Such a good boy,” I finish with an affectionate sigh, punctuating the statement by petting him again.

The blotchiness to his cheeks intensifies and he looks away again. “I’m not,” he mutters, managing to look embarrassed and (under that) very slightly pleased.

I curl my nails into his scalp a little and he twitches, exhaling softly as I continue to scratch and pet him. “You are though,” I insist. “Just look at you.” He goes even redder and keeps his eyes averted. I give his hair a slight tug and begin undoing the small braid along the side of his skull and I can see his shoulders tighten for an instant before they relax against the ground. “Don’t believe me?” I ask, teasing. 

I pass my hand down his jawbone and throat, reaching to rub lightly at his bare collarbone. I’m not sure what I did to deserve him… I feel especially fortunate when he walks around bare-chested at home year round but I send a grateful little prayer to any entity who may be tuned in… I swallow a little dryly, trying to focus again. “You’re perfect. Honest and tender and protective,” I list off qualities on my fingers leisurely as he _squirms_. “And have you seen yourself?” I make a noise like a slightly dramatic swoon.

Muriel moves to roll on his side so he can hide his face but I dig my nails into his shoulder to keep him still. His hair is loose now and I’m gripping it in my hands- not tight enough to cause pain but hard enough to deter escape. He stops moving obediently despite the fact that his face darkens further. The tips of his ears are starting to redden.

“Really? That’s _embarrassing?_ ” I press, smoothing some of his unruly hair and sweeping his bangs out of his face. “You’re _stupidly_ attractive. From the moment I first saw you I thought that.”

His lips press in an embarrassed line and he finally covers his face with one hand. “You’re weird,” he asserts lamely. Ah. His preferred excuse when I try to compliment him.

“Don’t cover your face,” I coax, trying not to sound too sing-songy but delighting in how red he’s getting. He looks like a tomato. He also obeys, albeit a little hesitantly. I croon even as he resolutely averts his eyes. “I can’t believe you ever scared anyone with this face,” I go on, knowing that this particular line of teasing usually gets a reaction out of him. “Especially looking the way you look now.”

It's maybe a weird thing to bring up his past like this but I quickly learned that he’s deeply appreciative of being told he isn’t terrifying. He eats it up with a kind of desperation that’s hot as hell to watch, if I’m being completely honest. He makes a husky noise under his breath in answer, his flush spreading down his throat now as he twitches reactively to my wandering hands.

I lean over him a little, running both my hands down his broad chest and through the smattering of dark hair that follows his midline. “How could anyone possibly look at you and not want to run their hands over every last inch of you-” He makes another desperately embarrassed noise and I notice that both of his huge fists are curled tightly in the furs beneath us as he struggles to keep from covering his face as instructed.

“It’s just you,” he manages, his strangled voice low enough to be a growl. There’s no venom in the tone, however, just a hint of (fond) exasperation.

I pretend to contemplate this. “Asra?” I offer tentatively.

Muriel’s chest shudders underneath my hands and I realize it’s a quiet, humored scoff despite his embarrassment. “He’s almost as weird as you.”

“So neither of us count? Convenient.” I retort. I let Muriel think he’s come out ahead for a moment before I stretch out and slide my palms further down his chest. “I guess I can’t complain though. It just means you’re all mine now.” His tiny smug smirk is instantly replaced by an embarrassed waver and his body ripples underneath my fingers. My hands smooth over his chest for a moment before I pinch both his nipples at the same time. He jumps and keens, his heavy body arching at the stimulus and I watch with fascination as thickly corded muscle shifts under his flesh. “What a good boy, you really make the most adorable noises.” 

He makes another such noise before he can help himself, squeezing his eyes shut as his thighs twitch a little. He’s trying to stay still, like I told him, but he’s also terribly embarrassed with the scrutiny. His face all the way down to his collar is dark red and he looks as breathless as he sounds. Not to be cliche but its fucking delicious and I’ll never get tired of it.

I lean further until my chest pushes against most of his face, dragging my nails down the curves and dips of his carved stomach, playing idly with the hair pooling below his navel. His impatient twitching starts picking up, his hands are clenching spastically in the furs now... but he remains flat on his back. His mouth drops open to breathe better but he doesn’t otherwise try to move me. 

As I continue my trek downwards, I pay close attention to how his powerful body tightens and twitches with each and every little stimulus. He’s always reactive, probably because he was deprived of nonthreatening human contact for the vast majority of his life… And though I suspect sometimes that he and Asra may or may not have been intimate at certain points during their lives they’re both so aloof that I can’t imagine that satisfied many needs in the long term… I shake my head a little as though to physically clear it. Muriel’s been making rapid progress and I’m determined to support him every step of the way at whatever pace he sets.

I’m awkwardly folded almost in half over his heavy shoulder, leaning over his face with my arms mostly extended. I drag my fingertips through the thick hair leading to his groin in a way that may have been incredibly teasing. His whole body trembles and I swear I hear him say my name on his next rough exhale. 

He’s hard as a fucking rock. The outline of his cock- huge and thick- pushes desperately at the front of his pants. I take a second to appreciate the sight and that he’s made absolutely no move to touch himself. I slide my fingertips just under the furs and belts cinched around his waist, teasing even more. His torso is long and I’m stretching hard to reach so far but the feel of him shuddering like a leaf and panting against me is worth it. 

“Oh so you really don’t mind all my compliments?” I say with a smile, running the pads of my fingers along the cut of his hips to the outer ridge of bone. He shudders and lets out a harsh, hot breath against me. His skin is boiling hot and I feel like the temperature in the small room is slowly but steadily rising. “You can be as ornery as you want with your mouth… but this?” I palm the outline of his cockhead tightly- Muriel makes shocked noise and his hips buck up helplessly. “You’ll have to try harder to contradict this.”

He’s not into pain or edging or deprivation- he’s suffered enough- but he loves following my lead. He loves being told what to do because it eliminates his worry that he will make mistakes or do something I don’t like… I was (and still am) completely willing to experiment with him but we found something that works with this dynamic and I don’t mind letting him get comfortable with it before we try other things.

I can feel him twitching with need under my palm and even through the trousers and pelts he’s hot and incredibly hard. I finally shift out from under his skull and shoulders to stop crushing his face under my chest with the reach. I seat myself comfortably next to him and can’t quite help the smirk as I take him in. His face is boiling hot, hair fanned out, and his intense eyes watch me like a fucking hawk as I lean against him comfortably. The clench of his fists tightens the muscles in his arms all the way to his shoulders and he’s panting now while he waits impatiently.

I feel heat douse my senses for a minute, color rising to my own cheeks. “Does being my good boy get you hard?” I ask him casually, running my hand lightly over the huge bulge.

He lets out a low whine and averts his face but I can feel his cock twitch under my hand and I can’t help the viscerally delighted expression I make. “Don’t be embarrassed,” I coax again, starting to rub him and watching with clinical interest as his bare abdomen ripples. He’s still doing an admirable job not moving his hands but some of the fur is giving way beneath his powerful grip as his jaw clenches and he closes his eyes. I can feel his thighs shifting beneath me.

An idea occurs to me and I sit up a little straighter. “You wanna be a really good boy?” I ask, unable to keep from grinning.

Muriel looks back to me, his eyes a little glassy and his body still flushed magnificently, and opens his mouth to answer. He works it for a second before giving up, his expression one embarrassed distress before he nods and averts his eyes again.

“Really?” I ask with a falsely overplayed note of delighted incredulity. It only makes him more embarrassed and heightens my excitement. “You wanna be a good boy for me?” 

He wants to look annoyed at the prompt- I can see it in his pursed lips- but he can’t muster the push back. His eyes are half lidded and his cock is throbbing powerfully beneath my warm hand. “Ye… yes.” he finally grunts, nodding and flexing impatiently. He doesn’t move to take his own pleasure, waiting for me to tell him what to do, but I can tell the self control is a challenge.

I lean over his body and plant my lips to his ribcage chastely before scraping lightly with my teeth. “Do you think you could…” I trail off dragging this out as I move to draw my tongue over one of his nipples. His whole body bows and he grunts thickly but he still waits for me to direct him- though one of his hands is on the back of my thigh now and his fingertips are starting to curl tightly. “I want… your mouth on me,” I finally say, moving to straddle his clothed cock and grinding so he had a good idea as to where I wanted it. “You made me come so fast last time you did it, Muriel. Please?”

His body’s going haywire and it’s clear that the amount of self control he’s exerting over his movements is taking up a lot of his available brainpower. He stares blankly up at me for a ponderously long moment before he nods eagerly and starts to crunch upwards with me still straddling his broad lap. Grinding against the massive cock trapped in his pants has got me hotter than I care to admit but before I let him move I crush our lips together. He responds in my favorite way- huge hands gripping me tight, calloused palms catching on the material of my shirt as he slides them up my back. He moans into it and reciprocates hungrily. It’s inflaming to the point where it derails my whole brain. My body throbs stupidly at his greedy movements, his innate shyness finally overpowered for the time being. The combination it makes is heady and addictive. 

I squeeze my thighs around his hips and he bucks eagerly, making a small noise of disappointment as I finally pull back and rise to my shaking legs. He watches me move with a laser focused intensity- he’s not interested in embarrassing himself by begging (not usually, anyway) but he’s beyond ready for me to tell him what to do next. Gods be damned, how did I get so lucky? 

My face must have broadcasted my thoughts because that embarrassed tinge is starting to win out against his hunger again and he averts his eyes in an unconscious show of deference. I have to bite my lip to keep from making any noise for a second as I try to regain control of myself.

“Last time… I didn’t get to see much of you while you worked,” I managed breathlessly. And it was true- I had been sprawled out on my back beneath him with my knees on either side of his head last time and I had devolved into an arching, moaning mess in an embarrassingly short amount of time. “This time I wanna watch you…”

He’s already leaning forward, shifting slowly to his knees. “Tell me,” he grunts roughly, the impatient note to his voice undisguised and I feel my arousal climb deliriously higher at his eager willingness to service me. 

After a second, I cast a glance at his table and make up my mind quickly. “We’ll use that,” I say, pointing and moving to grab his arm as he makes to stand, pulling him in greedily and interrupting him with another demanding kiss that he readily obliges. His flesh is hot and reactive beneath my touch and I’m already so excited at the prospect of what’s coming that I can barely stand. I’ve pulled him down a little and he has to hunch to kiss me, even as I rise to my toes to alleviate the strain in my neck. He’s a big boy.

His left arm wraps around my side until one of his hands grabs my ass and squeezes. It’s hard enough to be possessive and about as rough as Muriel dares to get but it doesn’t encroach on pain. He pulls me against him, hard, and lifts me off the ground with that single arm, pulling me up the length of his body just enough to make the kissing easier, even after his mouth muffles my noise of surprise. He turns easily, still holding me against him and moves two wide paces towards the table before he sets me down again. His face is flustered but eager and he looks down at me, expecting more prompting.

His body is distracting, I can’t help it. I kiss his sternum (its level with my face, after all) and deviate to the side in a sloppy line before my mouth is back on one of his nipples, tonguing over the tight peak before biting it lightly. Muriel jumps and groans lowly at the back of his throat- he’s usually mortified by this specific attention (he is now, I can feel the tense ripple through him) but there’s no way he can hide what it does to him. His hands clamp down on my hips and he drags me in as tightly as he can. After a moment of teasing, I’m impatient to move on again.

“See?” I say, with a Cheshire-ish smirk, my lips still brushing against his chest. “I told you you were the perfect height.”

My comment earns a breathless noise that’s at once scoffing but also needy and the deference is back in his red face. His discomfort is cute and the fact that it still can’t hide his eagerness is what’s getting my heart pounding. “Can you kneel right here?” I finally ask, gesturing vaguely to a space right next to me.

He obliges, his towering form sinking as he lowers himself, his cock tenting his pants so obviously that there’s simply no hiding it at this point. He takes me off guard with his own sudden desire, pulling on me demandingly until he can run his mouth down my throat and across my collar bone. His finger tugs my shirt collar aside so he has more access for a second and I have to lean back and brace myself against the rough wooden tabletop to keep upright under his hot, feral mouth.

He’s not… practiced. But his appetite and desire to please are more inflaming, if I’m being honest. I can’t say that I’m tremendously experienced either, of course, but whatever Muriel brings to these intense little trysts makes for a violent chemical reaction that makes my brain melt and my body go insane. Now that he knows what I want him to do, he’s confident enough to lead for a few steps. He drags his hands down my sides until he can untangle the sash at my waist and impatiently get his hands in the laces of my trousers.

I lean back more with another breathless noise, my arms shaking as they brace my weight against the table. Unable to stem the desire to push his buttons, I lift my bare foot to press firmly up against the apex of his thick thighs. He jerks for a second and squeezes his eyes shut, panting harshly as he struggles to control himself. I can’t help but smirk a little teasingly at that but the gloating expression is wiped off my face in a blaze of heat when he opens his eyes to look up at me. There’s such naked want there that it takes my breath away and I feel a self consciousness rise in me, unbidden. Surely I don’t deserve the devotion and adoration and fiery hot want that’s totally apparent there. He makes a needy noise- begging without words- and I’m an instant from coming in my pants like a fucking teenager.

I help him get my pants down, rushing now because I’ve lost at my own game, I think. Immediately keyed in to my impatience, he helps push the thick fabric down my thighs, followed closely by his mouth. He’s not kissing carefully any longer, it's sloppy and punctuated here and there with electrifying little nips- not even hard enough to redden flesh.

When he’s able to get my legs free he wastes no time in hefting me up and setting me at the edge of the table. He’s learned that I’m weak to his brute strength- I’m not dainty in any respect so it always catches me off guard to be plucked off my feet like I weigh nothing. It's his turn to smirk at my expression- I was dazed with arousal at this point and it must have been obvious even with the flustered color staining my cheeks.

I lean back a little, pointedly looking away from his cocksure little smile as he resumes his kneeling position. He’s so tall that the table puts my body at a comfortable height for him and he leans in, eager and still smirking (just a little). He presses his lips to my inner thigh and I jump nervously. He pauses, attentive to what’s going on, and one of his eyebrows quirks up questioningly because he can’t seem to find the words to ask. For lack of better alternative (I kind of feel like speaking is beyond me at this point) I thread my fingers through his thick hair and tug him in demandingly.

He gets the instruction and he goes. His hands brace against my thighs and he pushes them spread gently. I start heaving as soon as he starts kissing. His lips slowly make their way from the tenseness of my inner thigh further in and when his tongue drags along my hot flesh my whole body convulses. 

He’s not practiced enough to get hung up on delayed gratification or teasing and his tongue finds my clit quickly. I gasp wetly, heat unfurling in the pit of my body like wildfire and I realize that, despite my efforts, I’m probably going to be on my back in a second, gasping raggedly and unable to think. I jerk him in by my grip in his hair, a demand for more and confirmation that he’s doing a good job.

He works his tongue harder, punctuating with a sharp suck that has me tossing my head back and jerking a little under his hungry ministrations. It’s hard to think right now, even as I drag him in by the hair and keep him there… I’m not out to punish with pain but I know Muriel can handle my exuberance, he seems to like it more often than not and I resolve- with my remaining braincells- to confirm this with him later.

He sucks again and my eyes roll back into my head, my toes curling and my whole body pulsing with need. I can feel my arm about to give out beneath me and it gives me a renewed determination to see his face this time. When I can screw my head on straight I force myself to look down and it's like something snaps. I’m barely hanging on now.

My hand is fisted in his dark hair, steering him demandingly as he licks and sucks and nips at me. His eyes are closed but the furrow to his eyebrows tells of how much he’s struggling to stay focused. I can tell from this angle that his hips are shifting in small, frustrated motions as well and the implications make me throb against him. His eyes flicker open and up to me and after a second of intense scorching at the sudden eye contact, I can barely wrap my head around how fucking perfect he is.

It takes me a couple tries before I can gasp out: “Such a good boy. Aren’t you, Muriel?” in a way that’s even remotely understandable. I feel his answering groan as much as I hear it and even though I can see him flushing down there his actions increase in force and need the second the words register. I can’t withstand the renewed onslaught and I finally collapse backwards, still yanking to keep him between my twitching legs. “You’re… fucking perfect. You know that? My favorite- _nngh!_ ” My mouth feels like mush and I can’t really talk with him doing whatever he’s doing. The sucking is driving me absolutely insane and one more bout of that paired with the vibration of him growling in answer sends me careening uncontrollably into a mind-melting orgasm that makes every last inch of my body throb.

For a second, I wonder if I blacked out. I have no idea how long I spent arched and twitching on the table but when I’m able to think again, I don’t have a deathgrip on Muriel’s hair any longer and he’s pulled back a fraction, watching me with an inflaming mix of affection and raw hunger. I swallow thickly and slowly (my body is incredibly oversensitive right then) brace upwards a bit. Muriel whines quietly with impatience and I clumsily slide off the table, staggering to pull his head and shoulders in for a clumsy but desperately wanted hug. His hands curl against me tightly and he’s radiating heat just as sure as the fire is.

“Please,” he grunts. “I’m… I can’t…”

I nod stupidly, unable to form a coherent sentence and I gracelessly straddle his lap, both my hands going for the turgid outline of his cock, still straining behind his pants. In a clumsy rush, I manage to undo the belts and fly, tossing the leather and heavy pelts aside carelessly as I fight against the insistent, impatient rocking of his hips. The first touch of flesh on flesh makes him grit his teeth and toss his head and feel my mouth go dry at the sight of him losing it.

Surprising literally no one, Muriel is big everywhere. Taking him is a challenge (one I enjoy) and usually involves some gentle coaxing. When we first started this… penetration made him extremely nervous, cycling back into his deep-seated anxiety that he would hurt me or upset me. And just like with many of the other things we did leading up to it, he feels the most comfortable when I take the lead. I wrap my arm over his muscular shoulder and rise up to my knees, leaning in to kiss his jaw and angle myself in a way that’s easy for him to line up with. He’s quick to position himself and I can tell he’s fighting hard not to buck or otherwise lose control of his movements.

His cock presses up against me and he does his absolute best to hold, though from his straining and shivering I can tell it's an uphill battle. I kiss his jaw, his neck, the dip of his collar, slowly letting my weight drag me down his stiff cock. His hands are tight on me- one of them is in my hair- not pulling, but bunching it in his hand just to give him something to hold on to. “Fuck,” I gasp and he tenses up. He’s concerned, I can hear it in the way his breath forcibly evens out for a second.

“Is it,” he asks, his voice like gravel and deep as hell. “Is it too m-much?”

I don’t let up, still kissing him, trying to reassure him that I’m fine. “Muriel…” I grit out. “You’re a big boy. I’m… f-fine it just takes a little time.”

He seems reluctantly satisfied by that even if it makes his face ignite. I make a note of the reaction and file it away for later use before gripping the back of his neck as his hands clench spastically and I can feel his cock twitch against me. In the interest of distraction I scrape my teeth over his neck roughly and that seems to do the trick. He tips his head back and bares his throat, his breath ragged and his body jumping at each press and kiss.

After a long moment, I’ve finally taken most of him. His hands have slid down to my hips and he seems to be fighting against the powerful urge to pull me down onto him as tightly as possible. I can take his length, but it’s tight as sin and the pressure is intense. I can feel the beat of his pulse in his cock, twitching with need as the rest of his body strains to keep himself in check. The desire to tease him is maddening because watching his control slip and the stoic facade crack has to be one of life’s great pleasures.

I begin moving- slowly, at first- grinding small circles with my hips before I push down a little harder. Muriel is ready for his reward, his face slack with heat and his breathing has gone labored and loud. I can feel the impatience in his powerful grip, still struggling not to force the pace but his efforts at restraint only make me want to push his buttons- just a little. On his next stroke I respond with more force, shoving down and rocking slightly in answer to his barely restrained desire. It chokes a surprised noise out of him and his grip tightens again, his eyes wide and his mouth slack. I can feel his entire body shudder at the harder pace, feel his already enormous cock swell needily against me.

I can’t let go of his shoulders with both hands without unbalancing myself so I improvise by digging my fingers into his hair, just behind one red ear and pull him in tightly so that our foreheads nearly touch and he’s forced to look me in the eyes. My grip is strong but it isn’t mean… The goal is decisiveness and confidence, not subjugation and from the two-parts-hungry, one-part-flustered look on his face, I’m relatively sure I’ve succeeded. I lock eye contact with him and even though I feel the slight sting of embarrassment myself, his face is one that I love so damn much that I can’t do anything but stare straight at him. “ _Fuck_ me,” I demand, enunciating the syllables deliberately. 

I can see his rational brain shut down for just a second- his deep eyes are suddenly black and blown, glassy with heat and his grip on my body tightens by several degrees. I grind down again even as Muriel kind of just jerks directionlessly for a second while he tries to parse out his impulses. Unsatisfied with his hesitation I pull him in again, forcing him to look me in the eyes. “Muriel. _FUCK me._ ” It takes effort to bark that at him with confidence and to choke down the breathlessness and clumsiness of my voice right then, but I want it to be crystal clear that I want him now. 

God damn does it do the trick though. I can see the struggle in his face for a fraction of an instant before the combination of my bratty demands and his rapidly ballooning hunger win out over his capabilities of restraint. The room spins for a second as he shoves me to my back and slings himself low over me, his hands pinning my wrists to the stone floor. He thrusts back in and my legs splay around the width of his hips, his cock shoving into me so hard I feel my back scrape against the ground. 

His face is one of pure and unrestrained want, his typical reservation replaced by an intense hunger and something absolutely feral. His pace gets harder and faster over the next second and not only am I completely helpless under his weight, but his heavy hands are inescapable. I’m not a waif, I’ve thrown punches before. I’m not weak. But I couldn’t unbalance him if I tried… it’s effortless for him. My arousal spikes as he (finally) allows himself the luxury of getting everything he wants with all the blessings that I repeatedly try to give him.

He’s making noises, I realize thickly as I try to cope with the feel of him thrusting into me in powerful strokes. I angle my hips as much as I can to take him as deeply as possible but it’s hard to think under the onslaught. Roughly, he gathers both of my wrists in one hand and pins them above my head, his other hand grips my leg and angles it out and the friction of him shoving roughly into me increases sharply. I can’t help the ragged gasp of surprise… I didn’t think a second orgasm was in my future tonight but it seems I may have read the cards wrong.

Muriel is making an array of low, hungry noises. Deep, husky growls that go straight to my throbbing guts and I can’t keep from tightening reflexively, which only sends him closer to the edge. I want to grab his face, his hair, anything to bring him closer but he’s pinning my arms down with zero effort and all I can do is arch aimlessly under his weight and heat.

His pace is getting sloppy and he falls off tempo, his hip bones smashing into me. I can’t even hold on until he loses it. I suck in a huge breath and my face screws up with intense pleasure and I’m right back to throbbing and twitching around him while I stare stupidly at his face without really seeing any of the details. Everything starts to come to a head and I can faintly realize that his eyes are locked on to my face, his pupils huge and black and ringed only by a thin halo of that deep, dark green.

For some idiot reason, I smile stupidly up at him, even as I’m still riding the slowly receding throb of my second orgasm. “You’re a good boy,” I slur, melting back against the ground in exhaustion. I can feel the tense ripple all the way down his heavy frame and his face clouds a little with an even more pronounced flush and an instant of knee-jerk deference before his eyes screw shut in an instant and uncontrollable reaction.

I can feel the shudder run down his body. I can _feel_ his cock pulse inside of me and I gasp wetly. He goes back to trying to restrain himself and after getting to watch first hand how unbelievable hot he is when he can let go of his reservations around someone he trusts, I’m just not fucking having it. “You are,” I insist, trying frantically to string a coherent sentence together. “You’re such a good boy. Fucking me stupid and putting that adorable mouth to work on me.” He’s getting redder by the second and his cock is pulsing and swelling even tighter with every word out of my god damned mouth- he absolutely cannot hide that this is pushing him right to the edge. “You’re so good to me. Are you gonna come, just because I’m telling the truth? Muriel-” It is such a struggle to keep the words coming, I have no brainpower left for this. “Muriel, can you s-say it for me? Are you gonna come?”

Whatever comes out of his perfect mouth next almost doesn’t matter. I can tell he’s about to come by the way he’s twitching and the way his huge cock is throbbing powerfully against me. It's obvious in the way that he literally cannot stop his hips from moving even though he’s bright red from the attention. To my delight and continued admiration, Muriel never fails to impress and his mouth works for a second before he finally manages a ragged “Y-yeah.” He can’t even look away now, his eyes zeroed in on my mouth as I keep teasing him.

“Yeah? Say it, though,” I demand, struggling to instill a teasing haughtiness to my voice. “I wanna… hear you tell me…”

“I’m…” The struggle is on his bright-red face but it's obvious his self-consciousness is losing ground in this battle. “I’m g-gonna… come.”

He grits his teeth and I’m determined to force him over the edge despite all of his panting and shaking and flushing. The announcement is hotter than hell though and my body gives another interested throb around his cock and I bite my lip for a second. “Do it,” I grit out. “Come for me, okay? Right now.”

He opens his mouth to say something- who knows what at this point- but then his eyes sort of blank for an instant and then he’s over. His body shudders powerfully and he’s thrusting messily, coming hard and fast and thrusting through it heedless to anything else. His noises are low and breathless and feral and while I’m exhausted the second he starts gasping my name in my ear a crash of heat storms over me like a flash flood.

Eventually he slows and finally stops entirely, forgetting to reaffirm his grip on my hands and I can finally reach up and wrap my arms around the back of his muscular neck. He stays for a few minutes but the heat and sweat are undeniably uncomfortable and he rolls heavily off me to sprawl on his back for a second. A comfortable silence stretches between us for a long while before he turns to look at me.

“You…” he trails off for a second, trying to find the right words. I let him, unperturbed that he needs a second to gather his thoughts. “You’re pretty good, too”

It wasn’t what I was expecting and I laugh loudly. He watches me for a second before a slight smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Weird, though.”

I laugh harder at that, punching him playfully in the upper arm as I finally drag myself up in an attempt to go wash up.


End file.
